Tastes Like Lightning
by scpeede
Summary: Rating may change, but for now it's a safe T. I had actually forgotten this idea existed until I stumbled across the draft for the first chapter. So why not, right-especially when it comes to you 75% ready to post. No summary as I don't remember what the endgame was meant to be. But it's Spike, an OC, and fairly snarky dialogue. Not Angel-friendly. Evil (shock!) Watcher's Council.


So I found the dialogue draft for this when I moved buried in my old ( _old_ , like idea unusable _old_ ) drafts of SKoP and figured, "What the hell?"

* * *

Spike was man enough to admit that he'd been bested.

 _Thoroughly_ bested.

By what, he wasn't altogether sure. But not knowing didn't change the facts: he would be dust come sunrise and there wasn't any coming back from it this time. At this point, he figured he'd run through a few lifetimes' supply of "get out of death, free" cards. No Dru. No magic talisman. No genius scientist who refused to give up. Come to think of it, those instances weren't strictly _free_.

He wasn't sure if the universe had been doting on him or torturing him.

A bit of both, he supposed after a moment.

Either way, it looked like the universe was done with him. And it _had_ to have been the universe's doing. Nothing else explained it. Something had blindsided him. A something that he hadn't seen, heard, or smelt coming. He hadn't seen, heard, or smelt it leave either. It was impossible. A demon didn't exist that was capable of that. There wasn't a spell that he couldn't feel crackle in the air. It _had_ to be the universe. How else had that something managed to get a drop on him? The last thing to get a drop on him had been a pipe organ and Spike liked to think that the experience had matured him. He clearly remembered vowing to stake himself should he ever get his spine busted up a second time than go through that embarrassment all over again.

Funny how things work out.

To add insult to injury, the cell phone he'd been made to carry for such an occasion was dead. The kind of dead he was about to be, actually. But this was the same phone whose battery had been at 100% when he'd left to go on this little walkabout. This was why he hated technology. Sure, it did some useful things sometimes, but it had a bad habit of leaving you out to dry. Or dust, as the case may be. When the phone wouldn't revive itself no matter what he did to the battery or what buttons he pressed, he'd known that a higher power was working against him. It could have been coincidence, but he didn't believe in those.

Four hours ago, he'd been angry. Had cursed the fates, mother nature, his unseen assailant. Then he'd moved on to cursing Angel, the Scoobies, everyone he'd ever met or didn't meet. And when he'd finished with those, he started over again.

The cursing hadn't gotten him anywhere.

He was still laying in the grass where he'd fallen. But it _had_ fueled his determination enough that he'd managed to pull himself to the tree line. While not completely out of the open, settled against a tree was still a few steps up from facedown in the middle of a park.

Weren't parks supposed to be _safe_?

Fat lot of rubbish that was. He should've kept to the cemeteries.

Spike was comparing the pros and cons of death by sunrise or self-inflicted stake when someone emerged from the trees behind him and promptly tripped over his legs, stumbling badly. For some reason, this annoyed him. "Can't a bloke die in peace anymore? Sod off, will you?"

Suddenly, there was a feminine face hovering a little to the right of his own—big hazel eyes, a smattering of freckles across the nose, and strawberry blonde hair that leaned unusually close to strawberry. "If you want to die, that's your decision. But if meeting the sunrise isn't your first choice, you should be nicer to me. I'm as close to a knight in shining armor as you're going to get."

He couldn't help but be startled by her offer of help when she clearly knew what he was. Then the rest of her words sank in, effectively putting an end to the shock. "Oi! I'm not a soddin' damsel in need o' savin'."

"You used the d-word, not me." The young woman's eyes shone with a mischief that didn't match the situation. " _I_ was implying that you're a princess."

He gave a low growl to let her know that he was not amused.

She ignored it. "Can you walk?"

"Well, luv, if I could manage that, I wouldn't be sittin''ere playin' chicken wi' the bloody sun now, would I?"

Her look was decidedly unimpressed. "I'm human. It's dark. If it wasn't for your hair, I doubt I'd know where your face was. How am I supposed to know where you're hurt without asking a few stupid questions first?"

Spike sighed, knowing she didn't deserve his anger. "Can't move my bloody legs. Assumin' my spine's in bits an' pieces," he offered in lieu of an apology.

She grimaced in sympathy. "You're obviously having the best day ever."

"Absolutely the greatest day o' my unlife," he confirmed.

She looked off to the east, trying to gauge what kind of timeframe they were working under, and shrugged to herself. "Nothing for it, then." She leaned in closer, pulling her hair away from her neck in a clear sign.

"What're you doin'?"

"Are your smarts in bits and pieces too?"

"I can't."

She raised an eyebrow. "You can't get your vampire up?"

"O'course I can! You bloody well better take that back!"

"Taking it back, geez." Holding her hands up in a placating gesture, she asked, "So what's the problem?"

"I'm not drainin' you, pet. I refuse to kill you just to save my own sorry arse."

"Idiot. I'm not offering to heal you completely. I'm just trying to get you limping."

"Still, I don't—" He broke off as she moved away from him, not seeing the point in arguing it any longer as she'd finally seemed to accept that helping an injured vampire wasn't the most brilliant of plans.

But instead of leaving, the woman sat back on her heels and held out her arms. "Look at me. No upper body strength whatsoever. I can't just carry you to a nice shady place. I could probably kick you and eventually _roll_ you to safety, but I don't think I'd manage it before dawn." She leaned back in. "So, what's it going to be?"

Spike rested his forehead against her shoulder. "I'm goin' to hell."

"Yeah, because _not_ doing this was going to tip the scale the other way."

He considered it. "Fair point, luv."

She felt his breath fan against her throat, quickly followed by the sharp pinch of the bite and a steadily spreading warmth. "Th—this feels weird."

"Sudden blood loss," the vampire's voice was strangely muffled with his teeth in her neck.

"I don't think that's it."

Spike lifted his head at the confused but sure tone, quickly catching on to the situation with a chuckle. "You're aroused. 'Least I could do to make sure we both get somethin' out o' this lil' arrangement. 'Sides, pleasure is my favorite flavor."

"Oh." She nodded as though it made the most perfect kind of sense, then froze with a groan. "Fuck my life."

Brushing her hair aside, he turned his attention back to her neck. "Why's that, luv?" He felt her tense as his fangs once again found the punctures but she didn't make a sound. Shifting at the pins-and-needles sensation in everything below his waist, he sat up and pulled her closer so that she knelt between his outstretched legs.

After a long moment, she sighed. "It's pathetic. This is the best action I've gotten in, well, ever and it's not—we aren't even… ugh. Rat bastards, all of them."

He couldn't help the smug grin pressed against her throat. "Guess this proves I _can_ get it up."

"I'm pretty sure I specifically referred to the vampire part and _nothing else_."

"That's a vampire part, too." His next retort died on his tongue at the strangled sound she made. "Luv?"

"You need to stop." She gasped out.

Spike immediately withdrew his fangs and closed the wound. "Gettin' off's nothin' to be ashamed of, pet."

The heel of her hand was pressed between her closed eyes as she snorted. "You're not that good." She told him as her arm twitched.

"Ah, but you didn't let me finish."

"At that rate, you wouldn't have finished before dawn." Her mouth tilted as she fought a smile.

He wagged a finger at her. "Normally, I would take that challenge, but I don't much fancy racin' the sunrise to—You alright?" he asked as a violent tremor shook her frame.

She opened her eyes. "Mm. Can you hobble yet?"

"We're about to find out." Using the tree as leverage, Spike slowly climbed to his feet. There were shooting pains down his spine and legs, but he was up and the discomfort was quickly fading. "Right, then. Can you recommend a sewer entrance? A mausoleum, perhaps?"

"You can just come home with me if you want." She stood and abruptly went back down.

He caught her as she fell, spine complaining all the while but holding up. "You're sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I must have stood up too fast." She stepped away from him only to lose her balance again.

He caught her for a second time.

"Is it too late to change my answer?"

"Here, lean on me." Hell, it was the least he could do if she was going to offer him a place to hole up after saving his arse.

"I'm fine, really. Just give me a minute."

"Sorry, luv, but a minute is the one thing we don't have." He swept her up in his arms—an action she was too dizzy to protest—wincing a bit at the strain. "Which way?"

"I'll let you know when the ground is back where it's supposed to be."

Spike took one of her arms and draped it around his neck, pulling her against him and tucking her head under his chin. "Better?"

She struggled to focus, eventually pointing to the north. "My house is that way. I think."

He headed in the general direction he'd been pointed in, hoping her dizziness wasn't leading them _away_ from the potential hide away. "Your sense o' self-preservation is a bit stunted, innit?"

"What makes you say that?"

"What makes me say that?" he repeated incredulously. "Are you _daft_? You invited a bloody vampire into your home. _After_ you offered him your neck. Do you have some sort o' death wish?"

"If you were going to kill me, you'd have done it when I tripped over you. Or on any of the countless opportunities you've had between then and now, _like when you had your teeth in my neck_." She paused. "I think you're the one that should be worried."

"Me?"

She hummed in confirmation. "For all you know, I could be an ax murderer."

" _Are_ you an ax murderer?" he found himself asking, knowing the question was ridiculous but unable to stop it.

"If I were, I'd say the job's already half done."

"Cute."

"What's your name?"

Spike raised an eyebrow at the non-sequitur. "Spike."

"Seriously? That's your name?"

"William," he conceded. "But don't you go 'round tellin' it."

"Peyton." she told him, agreeing to his terms. Recognizing her surroundings now that the world had stopped spinning, she pointed. "Down that street."

"What are you even doin' out this late anyhow? An' in the woods, no less."

Peyton shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

"So you went for a walk in the dark clearly knowin' what's out here? Are you tryin' to get eaten?"

"Are you complaining?"

"Nah, just a casual observation."

She was unconvinced. "Uh-huh."

"Hey, now. Your death wish is your business."

Her leg jerked in his hold, though she seemed to be pointedly ignoring it. But curiosity was getting the better of him and he'd made up his mind to ask when the ringing of a cell phone stalled him. "Your phone's ringin', pet."

She shook her head. "I don't have one."

He stared at her for a moment, knowing what it meant but unable to believe it.

"Are you going to get that?"

Spike shifted her weight so that he could reach into his pocket, the movement not as fluid as it should have been.

"You could put me down, you know," Peyton suggested.

"No dice," he told her. "I'd put you down, you'd fall again, an' we'd be right back where we are now." He finally managed to reach his phone and, sure enough, it was ringing.

Bloody universe.

He flipped the phone open. "'Lo?"

"Spike!" Angel's voice immediately rang out, ignoring his attempt to answer. "Where the hell are you? It's nearly dawn. For the love of—we've only been in town a few hours and you've already found someone to piss off? It has to be a new record."

"Your number one fan, I take it?" Peyton shrugged lightly at his slightly murderous expression. "Just a casual observation."

But Angel was still blathering on about how his wandering off had inconvenienced them, and how they'd been looking for him for hours now. He figured they couldn't have been looking all that hard. If they had, it wouldn't have been Peyton to find him.

"Oh, come off it, Peaches." Spike heard Peyton's quiet giggle at the nickname and shot her a quick grin. "Haven't had anyone properly brassed off in ages an' you well know it. Just out for a stroll, is all."

"This close to sunrise?"

"Stop actin' the sire, Angel. It doesn't suit you."

Angel gave a heavy sigh. "Where are you?"

"Primrose Drive," Peyton softly informed him. "It dead-ends at 1504. That's me."

At least they were headed in the right direction. Sun would be rising in a few minutes, after all. "Headed to 1504 Primrose," he relayed to Angel. "Why?"

"1504?"

"Yeah, why?"

"We're at 1502."

"Hell of a coincidence." Spike muttered as he ended the call.

"I don't believe in coincidences." Peyton told him as realization belatedly struck her. "You're here because Emma Brady suddenly has the strength of ten men. That makes you one of the Aurelius masters, right?"

He blinked at her. "How did—"

"Not all humans are blind to the supernatural, you know."

"Know that but, even so, not many know about the newest generation o' slayers."

"Didn't _everyone_ hear about that?"

"No, luv, they didn't. An' most didn't believe it."

Peyton considered his words. "A little far-fetched going from one to dozens, but not _so_ out there. Besides, I heard the White Witch was responsible—it's definitely possible if she was the one casting the spell."

"White Witch?" he asked, glad to see that they were nearing the end of the street. He'd heard Red called a lot of things since he'd known the Scoobies. Admittedly, most of those weren't exactly complimentary, but White Witch was a new one.

"Hand of the Goddess or something." She waved it off. "Not my concern."

The door to 1502 opened as they passed, Angel's frame filling the doorway. "Spike."

Spike exhaled slowly as he turned to face his grandsire, annoyance evident in every line of his body. "Wot?"

A tiny brunette peered around Angel. "Am I supposed to do something? On one hand, the vampire's obviously bitten her. But, on the other hand, I'm sure she did something to deserve it."

The bleached-blonde raised an eyebrow. "Seems our number one fans have met."

"Joy," Peyton deadpanned as she took in the sight of the master vampire and newly initiated slayer. "The invitation's still open if you need it to be. If not, I'm going home." She moved to stand on her own but quickly realized that something was hindering her progress. "You do realize that I can't go home until you put me down, right?"

"Not so, pet." Spike told her cheerfully as he continued up the drive to her home.

"You shouldn't be carrying me anyway."

"Posh." He frowned at Peyton upon discovering that the front door was unlocked, not that it would have kept him out even if she hadn't already issued the invitation.

Though Spike would admit to taking a gleeful sort of joy in the astonished expression on Angel's face as he kicked the door shut behind them.


End file.
